


gatekeeper

by pumpkinless



Series: gatekeeper [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM Scene, Begging, Cock Slapping, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, M/M, Manhandling, Married Couple, Married Sheith, Military Kink, Name-Calling, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Verbal Humiliation, authority kink, both the slapping of and the slapping with variety, mild consent play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:32:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinless/pseuds/pumpkinless
Summary: Keith always gets what he wants, one way or another, but the Admiral ensures he has to work for it.“A promotion,” Admiral Shirogane had whispered into his ear two weeks ago. “That one you’ve worked so hard for. Maybe you could help yourself get it.”Maybe. Or maybe he should forget about fingertips just brushing the underside of his chin to keep his gaze level and the promise of quid pro quo.





	gatekeeper

**Author's Note:**

> highkey dedicated to zan whose encouragement convinced me to both finish & post this fic
> 
> this fic is set vaguely in canonverse, but honestly it's not really that important; shiro is an admiral and has the floating altean prosthetic, keith is utterly beautiful and could kick anyone's ass at any time, they are very married and very, very kinky. i love them.
> 
> enjoy!

The desert is cold and unforgiving all around as Keith drives, long after the winter sun has already set for the night, both hands clutched tight to the steering wheel as if he can brace himself against it. Anticipation curls through his belly like dark smoke. The parking lot he pulls into is too brightly lit, the hotel too nice, and he avoids the valet like it's the plague. This car is his baby, and he doesn't need anyone knowing how long he stays.

The lobby is posh. Keith is out of uniform, maybe underdressed, though the Admiral of the Atlas is immediately recognizable across the room by his military straight posture, even seated at a low table near the bar. Seeing him freezes Keith to his spot in front of the door. He shouldn’t be here, he should go.

But Keith can’t seem to turn around.

“A promotion,” Admiral Shirogane had whispered into his ear two weeks ago. “That one you’ve worked so hard for. Maybe you could help yourself get it.”

Maybe. Or maybe he should forget about fingertips brushing the underside of Keith’s chin to keep his gaze level and the promise of quid pro quo.

It’ll be quick, Shirogane promised. A half hour of his life and his mouth wide open in exchange for his career.

Keith doesn’t have to go through with it.  

But the possibility dangles before him—guaranteed weekends off, no more all night shifts patrolling the student quarters to catch any idiot cadets out of bed. Better quarters with a private bathroom.

After a few years, he could make captain; command his own vessel, plan new missions. Touch the stars and hold possibility in his hands. It’s all Keith ever wanted, and the only thing standing between him and his dreams is the complete desecration of his moral compass.

His last moment to reconsider—he takes half a step back. Leaving would be easy; he could slip right out the door before the Admiral notices him.

Then, it’s too late to flee. The Admiral turns just enough for Keith to trace the profile of his face, and then he spots Keith. He’s unfairly handsome in the low light, so much that Keith’s breath catches at the sight, and Shirogane raises a lazy hand in greeting, drink in hand as he mimes a toast in Keith’s honor. He tosses back the glass in one smooth stroke and drops it to the table with a thud Keith swears he can hear from here. 

Shirogane looks Keith dead in the eye and nods his head to the left.

They meet at the elevators. There's no sense in Keith moving to sit with him; he won't have a drink and he's uninterested in small talk. The only reason to be here is to go upstairs, and it won't help him any to have pretense about what exactly this meeting is—he has a specific goal to accomplish and then he goes home.

No one else joins them in the elevator, and Admiral Shirogane presses the button for the top floor. 

Keith breaks the silence to say, “Admiral,” and gets a sharp nod of greeting in return. 

"I didn't expect you to actually show up." The Admiral's voice is silky, clearly audible over the hum of machinery around them. Unfortunately, so is the click of Keith's throat as he swallows before responding. 

"I made a deal, sir," Keith answers. He doesn't look at Shirogane. "I intend to follow through."

"And I'm glad you did."

Fingers slide against Keith's jaw, turning him to face Shirogane head on. Something low and dark simmers in his eyes, sending a shiver down Keith's spine as he imagines what exactly that face expects from him.

Shirogane is so close. Keith expects to smell liquor on his breath, but there’s nothing to indicate he had anything more than water to drink. 

"You are exceptionally beautiful," the Admiral says, his thumb dragging over Keith's lips. "I can't wait to see you cry."

Keith barely suppresses a sudden step backward at the fire that blazes between them after that. The halls of the Garrison echo with awe and fear of the man towering over Keith, warning new cadets and old brass alike that he is not someone to be trifled with.  _ He's done things you can't even imagine,  _ some say, always hushed, never in his presence.  _ He's not a man, he's a legend. _

Well. Keith is about to experience the humanity of Admiral Shirogane first hand. It's a pity he won't be able to inform the Garrison gossip crowd that Shirogane is as much of a lecherous, conniving man as any other.

And so, perhaps, is Keith.

“Our deal,” he forces out. He needs the reassurance, the confirmation of their agreement.

“If you take care of me, I will take care of you.” 

It’s as simple as that.

When they arrive at the penthouse, Keith steps out of the elevator first and they make their way into the room. Shirogane doesn't look at him as he orders Keith to go wait in the bedroom, too busy walking into the kitchenette for another glass of water. Keith hesitates for a brief moment, watches his back as he takes a sip, and then turns for the door he assumes leads to the bedroom.

The suite is decorated in white, beige, and gold, styled traditionally with large, arcing windows peeking out onto a balcony. It’s very beautiful and is probably exactly was expensive as it looks. Keith hardly pays attention to it as he strips off his leather jacket and throws it onto the dresser beside him.

Is he really going to do this?

He is, it turns out. Keith unlaces his boots and puts them off to the side; rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath. That's when Shirogane walks in, the picture of polished, Garrison perfection from the top of his gray uniform collar to the soles of his shiny black boots. 

Keith turns around to meet his fate, acutely aware of the fact that his thin T-shirt and leggings leave him very underdressed in comparison. Shirogane’s chest rumbles with something like approval and Keith closes his eyes, sends a prayer up somewhere above. He can't believe himself, what he's doing, but there's still a sick sense of satisfaction for it. He doesn't want to admit it, much less feel it, but it remains undeniable. 

There's something about the Admiral's aura of authority. He's completely in control, not a hint of distress or uncertainty on his face. All of that is reserved for Keith, for the one of them who's not sure he’ll be able to handle the dawning reality of this in the morning.

Shirogane raises his chin, and Keith doesn’t have to ask what he wants. Keith crosses the scant space between them and falls right to his knees, rocketing down so quickly that he hits the ground too hard. He tries to cover up his wince, but a twitch at the corner of Shirogane’s mouth betrays him.

“You look good down there,” Shirogane says. He takes Keith’s chin in his hand, tips it farther back. Shirogane is all power, all poise, the bite in his voice as real as the pain in Keith’s knees. “And all mine tonight. Have you done this before?” There’s a glint in his eye.

Slept with the admiral for a promotion? Never.

But that’s not what he means. Keith nods his head as much as Shirogane’s grip will allow.

“Mm. Come here.” Shirogane threads his fingers into Keith’s hair and pulls him in, crushing his face against the scratchy polyester uniform pants. Keith is eye to eye with Shirogane’s dick, and it’s no surprise how big it is. Everyone with eyes has dropped their gaze to look, to speculate with dizzying certainty about what hides behind his uniform, and tonight Keith gains a new appreciation. He blushes despite himself, gets redder when Shirogane rolls his hips forward and presses the thick line of his dick into Keith’s cheek. He’s already hard.

Keith grabs Shirogane’s thigh to steady himself, garnering a low chuckle, and then Shirogane nudges Keith’s hand up. It’s obvious what he wants.

Each clink of his belt opening sounds too loud in the silent bedroom. Each noise seals Keith’s fate a little further, a little deeper, and when Keith’s hand dips inside Shirogane’s pants to wrap thin fingers around it to pull it out and it’s—

He tries not to shudder. Keith’s fingers can’t quite touch around the base, and he knows that uncertainty shows on his face. Keith is confident, experienced, knows he can do this, but there’s a difference between past experience and the moment of feeling the weight of his decisions in his hand.

Shirogane watches. Keith doesn’t need to look up to know his eyes are burning down, cutting straight through Keith.

“Take off your shirt and put your hands behind your back,” Shirogane says. “Don’t you dare move them.” 

Keith is too scared to ask what will happen if he does.

He strips off his T-shirt, tossing it vaguely in the direction of where he left his coat. His fingers bunch up into fists as he holds his arms ramrod straight behind his back, gloves pulling tight. 

Shirogane’s cock hangs so heavy in front of him, struggling to stand up underneath its own weight. The first touch to his lips as Shirogane guides it toward him is—god, it’s indescribable. But Shirogane doesn’t take the offering of Keith’s open mouth; he puts one hand on Keith’s hair and uses the other to smear the head of his cock over Keith’s bottom lip and across his cheek, leaving wetness in its wake.

A thumb pushes inside Keith’s mouth, hooking over his bottom teeth and pulling his jaw further down. Shirogane is clearly a man who knows exactly what he wants, and what he wants now is to tap the head of his cock against Keith's jaw, watching the shock flare up in his eyes. Keith takes a sharp breath, and sits still while Shirogane’s cock traces the outside of his lips.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Shirogane murmurs. “Like a little fucking—”

Something wet strikes Keith’s cheek.

He gasps in shock, flinches away when the next one gets too high up on his cheek. Shirogane just laughs and pushes his cock against the side of Keith’s face, teasing at the edges of his hair. It’s humiliating and disgusting, and Keith always knew this was wrong, that this wasn’t appropriate behavior for an officer, but now—

Now Keith knows that the most desperate part of himself is going to like it.

Shirogane slaps his cock against Keith’s face three more times, each somehow more shocking than the last, leaving him a mess. One fist holds tight in Keith’s hair, like he knows Keith wouldn’t be able to stay in place without it.

Keith burns for the way it feels to have his head wrenched back. He hopes the expression on Shirogane’s face is pleasure, because he’s found out how to make this as humiliating as possible for Keith.

“Slut,” the Admiral says, almost conversationally. “Tell me, are you getting off on this?”

Keith swallows, his face on fire. “Yes,” he admits.

“Say thank you.”

Again, he’s hit.

“Thank you,” Keith whispers.

“That’s right. You have a lot to thank me for.” Keith’s eyes shut of their own accord as the tiniest whimper gets stuck in his throat, and Shirogane traces the tip of his cock down Keith’s neck, as if he’s considering how it will look buried inside. Keith doesn’t know how he’s going to get it to fit.

“Yes, sir,” he says. There’s nothing else to say. Keith is humiliated and his dick throbs with arousal. It’s not a good look for someone who’s supposed to only be here for the Admiral’s amusement, not good for him on his knees licking at the balls of a man who acts like his dick belongs on top of Keith's face.

Shirogane shuffles his stance. “Get ready.”

Keith opens his mouth on instinct and regrets it immediately because Shirogane either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care about the importance of starting slow. He pushes inside, invades Keith, pace too fast and too rough, and the only blessing is that he doesn’t push anywhere near the back of Keith’s throat, just slides to the back of his mouth and then back out, resting there, waiting. 

Keith does his best to recover from the shock, sucking hard on the head of Shirogane’s cock where it lays still on his tongue. He gets a sigh in response and, emboldened, Keith dips down farther, bobbing his head slowly as he adjusts to the task in front of him. 

This is supposed to be the best blowjob he ever gives in his life, but no hands on a cock as big as this renders him basically useless. All he has is his mouth and his tongue, and Keith is good, he knows what he’s doing, but he can’t make miracles happen. Shirogane shifts his weight to his other leg and back again. It’s impatience, plain and simple, and inexplicable shame floods Keith at it. He can do it, he  _ can _ , he just needs—

“Need some help?” Shirogane’s words are almost kind, but the grip he gets in Keith’s hair is anything but. He holds Keith in place, pushes to the back of his throat, chokes Keith on his cock with the ease of a man who’s used to getting exactly what he wants.

Keith splutters, coughs, and yanks his head back. The Admiral lets him go so he can meet Keith’s eyes, and Keith wonders what he sees there. Gasping to catch his breath, he says, “Slower.”

Shirogane arches an eyebrow.

“Please,” Keith amends, mouthing at the head of the Admiral’s cock in apology.

“Suck my cock like you mean it,” Shirogane says in response as he thrusts into Keith’s mouth. It’s immediately clear he didn’t listen to Keith’s plea, and he takes what he wants from Keith with no regard for his comfort. He wants, so he takes; there’s a fine simplicity to his actions.

A tear slips from the corner of Keith’s eye, burning a hot trail down his cheek, and Keith imagines it mixing with the mess that’s already there. He heaves in air when he can, nails digging into his own back to stop himself from touching. 

He can endure this, he will.

Nothing is as nasty as the sound of Keith choking around a cock too wide for his throat.

“Am I too big for you?” Admiral Shirogane asks. He rolls his hips just enough to upset the precarious hold Keith has on him, and Keith chokes again. “Is that why you're so bad at this?” A slap lands on Keith's wet cheek, from Shirogane’s left hand this time. “I would have thought a whore would know his way around a cock better than this.”

Keith gasps for air. “S—I'm sorry, sir.” 

“Then—that’s it.” Keith doesn't wait for the command this time; he dives back down on the Admiral's cock. It stretches his lips to the limit and sits heavy in the back of his throat, and as much as he doesn't want to force it, Keith has to contend with his own mile-wide competitive streak. He needs to prove to himself, to the Admiral, that he can do this and that he's worth it. Otherwise, what was the point of coming here?

The truth is, though, Keith’s never figured out how to deepthroat a cock this size, at least not all the way. The Admiral gets a metal hand in his hair and pulls, hardly half an inch of cock pushing further inside Keith’s mouth, but that’s all it takes him to choke for the last time he can handle. His hands fly up to shove away; his chin is covered in spit as he gasps for air.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” the Admiral says. He looks disappointed, one metal hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Unlike Keith’s fingers, they reach all the way around.

“I’m—”  _ sorry _ , Keith tries to say, but a sharp four-fingered slap cuts him off. His cheek stings from the impact of metal.

“You can’t even keep your hands where I tell you to.” A moment of silence while Keith is surveyed. “I bet your ass is better.” Admiral Shirogane steps back far enough to haul Keith up to his feet, and despite not being on his knees anymore, Keith doesn’t actually feel any closer to the Admiral’s height. “Get your clothes off.”

Keith hesitates. This wasn’t part of the deal—not that there was much of a deal, but when he agreed to get on his knees, well. Face down, ass up was not what he envisioned.

“What did I fucking  _ say?” _ The world spins as the Admiral grabs Keith by the upper arm and tosses him face first onto the bed, floating prosthetic hand planted on the small of Keith’s back before he can scramble up. Keith’s leggings are thin, little more than cheap cotton that make heads turn at the mere sight of him walking down the street. He loves them. Admiral Shirogane rips the back of them, tears a hole over Keith’s ass, drags him backward so his feet hang off the bed and his knees threaten to slip over the edge.

“You want it like this?” the Admiral asks, his hand rough on Keith’s ass, spreading him apart and slapping him, just to watch. “Spread your legs, baby, let me see your pretty hole.”

Keith whines, high-pitched. He does as he’s told and it sends a sick thrill through him—he’s not supposed to like this, much less enjoy it, but the rough brush of the Admiral’s fingers over his hole sends arousal sparking through him. He likes it, likes the index finger pushing in dry to the first knuckle and pulling out too fast, too rough. 

Shirogane spits on his own finger and shoves it back inside so hard that Keith squeals in response, trying to crawl up the bed. He can’t decide whether to thank god or mourn that it’s not one of the thicker metal ones thrusting inside him with not enough gentleness. Instead, that hand floats up to pin both of Keith’s wrists above his head, killing any amount of leverage he might have had.

Keith isn’t supposed to like this. But Shirogane knows exactly what he’s doing—he forces Keith to ride that perfect knife-edge of pain, rough just this side of uncaring, and it’s that thought that undoes Keith. 

Keith could be anyone, right now; the Admiral doesn’t care that it’s him any more than he cares about Keith begging him to go slower. Shirogane just takes, using him, like Keith could be any one of a number of low ranking officers desperate enough for a promotion that they would do anything. How many times has Shirogane done this?  

“You’re not even paying attention.”

Keith startles back to the present, to fingers tracing around his hole. Shirogane sounds annoyed.

“Sorry, sir,” Keith says, “I was just—”

“Just nothing.” Shirogane gets both his hands on Keith’s hips and flips him like it’s nothing, sending Keith’s whole world into a spiral of confusion. He fits his hand—human, but still unfairly huge—over the length of Keith’s cock, still trapped in his leggings. There’s a wet spot on the front, embarrassing, and Keith closes his eyes as Shirogane prods at it. “Shit,” he whispers, almost to himself.

Before Keith can start to feel any kind of smug, Shirogane surprises him by grabbing the waistband of Keith’s pants and yanking them down past his ass, just enough to bare him completely to Shirogane’s hungry gaze.

He pushes Keith’s thighs back, all the way back, and stares at Keith until he hooks his hands behind his own knees, spreading himself open. Shirogane looks pleased for the briefest of seconds before his gaze slides back down, eyeing Keith like he’s trying to figure out what to do to him.

Keith can’t get any redder, his face can’t flush with any more blood. The way the Admiral touches him is almost reverent. His fingers, so rough before, trace over Keith’s hole like it’s something precious, something to be treasured.  Maybe he’s just nasty like that, or maybe he thinks he can use Keith’s body like it doesn’t even have a person attached to it, and so it doesn’t matter that this position makes Keith’s muscles ache or his skin run hot all over.

Keith is completely interchangeable, and it makes him so hard.

“Are you gonna do anything?” Keith asks. He has to muster a lot of courage. “Sir?”

Shirogane’s next touch is accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. What feels like a knuckle presses against Keith’s hole, just enough to make certain Keith feels it. He whines. 

Abruptly, Shirogane pulls Keith’s pants the rest of the way off, tossing them to the floor. Keith’s legs fall to the bed, spread already, but Shirogane knocks his ankles farther apart. He leans over Keith, then, hovering just above Keith’s chest as he takes Keith’s chin in hand and holds him in place for a kiss that’s hardly a kiss. It’s a spit-slick, biting thing that leaves Keith’s bottom lip feeling bruised and wet, and half the shock comes from Keith’s disbelief that the Admiral would touch him in such an intimate way. 

He’s a fantastic kisser, and Keith loses himself in it. Keith moans when Shirogane breaks the kiss to bite at the underside of his jaw, mouth sucking at the delicate skin there for not long enough. Shirogane kisses like he’s hungry, like he wants to own Keith and keep him pliant forever, and then his mouth disappears to hover above Keith, just out of reach.

Keith only has one more second of blissful silence before the Admiral finds his words again and his grip tightens on Keith’s chin enough to hurt.

It’s almost conversational. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “I saw the way you look at me.”

Keith swallows, wishes he could turn away from those eyes burning into him. His mouth hurts, lips bitten raw, and he wants Shirogane’s mouth back on his.

“You want this. You’ve  _ wanted  _ this.”

“Yes,” Keith whispers, half-terrified at the words coming out of his mouth. “Yes, I want this.”

Shirogane leans close, brushes their lips together. He slaps Keith again, hard enough this time that Keith’s head whips to the side with a ragged gasp and his knees cling to Shirogane’s waist as if he can curl up in on himself to escape the pain. His cheek smarts at the thumb Shirogane drags over it. Keith whimpers.

“What do you say?”

“T-thank you, sir.”

“Fuck.”

It’s the first thing Shirogane has said all night that sounds affected, and it makes Keith turn hot and cold with arousal. 

Something shifts then. It could just be the knowledge that no matter how hard he tries, the Admiral cannot maintain utter stoicism. Maybe it’s Keith sinking just the tiniest bit deeper into his own head, submitting, breaking down in the face of extraordinary power balanced above him. Whatever it is, it’s enough for Keith’s knees to fall completely open, as far as they can go, almost to the bed. 

The Admiral doesn’t jump on the bait immediately like Keith expects. He definitely notices the movement, it’s clear in his eyes, but he takes his time to trace one fingertip down underneath Keith’s chin to the base of his throat.

“Oh, baby,” he says. The growl in his voice and the incongruity of the word stops Keith’s breathing, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Not a moment passes before Shirogane rears back and shoves one of Keith’s thighs back to his chest in one fluid motion. Pushy fingers prod at Keith, tracing over his rim like an inspection. Shirogane must like what he sees, because he says, “Look at you. You’re so pretty down here, I bet you open up real quick for me. Won’t you?”

Shirogane’s searing gaze means it’s a question he wants answered.

“Yes, sir,” Keith says hurriedly.

“Even if I do this?” 

Shirogane hits him again, right over his hole, and Keith’s entire body jerks at the impact. He gasps, face burning, but the fact that it made his cock twitch is undeniable. Keith bites his lip and nods up at the Admiral, whose gaze never wavers. The twist of a smile at the corner of his lip, the darkness of his eyes, the cold set of his jaw—Shirogane hits him again, and Keith chokes out, “Thank you, sir.”

Shirogane looks approving, and he holds Keith there while Keith can do nothing but listen to the sound of a cap clicking open.

There’s no hesitation, no asking Keith if he’s ready—the first metal finger pushes in at the same time Shirogane’s hand clamps down on the back of Keith’s thigh and holds him so tightly that Keith can’t even twist away. He doesn’t want it to feel good, or maybe he does, it’s so hard to tell, but Shirogane is unrelenting. He pushes inside like he knows Keith’s body and all the places to touch to make it betray him. It’s awful feeling his own cock leak onto his stomach as the Admiral watches in deep fascination. 

“That get you off?” he asks Keith. “You like having me inside you?”

Keith just moans, eyes falling shut. He pants, tries to twist into a position that doesn’t allow for so much stimulation, but the oddly long, thick finger of Shirogane’s mechanical hand seems to know just where to touch him. It pushes in, out, nails his prostate, gives Keith no time to breathe. Keith is slack-jawed and thinks it’s the best kind of brutality.

One finger becomes two almost too quickly for Keith to comprehend, and it screws so deeply into him. He can’t imagine taking three fingers, not when two are already splitting him open. 

He still hasn’t figured out how he’s going to manage Shirogane’s cock, but it’d be a lie to say he doesn’t want to try. 

All the while, Shirogane keeps him pressed there, held down, hands and one leg scrabbling at the sheets like a man who doesn’t know if he wants to get away or get closer. Embarrassing half-moans fall from his lips every time Shirogane’s fingers push deep but Keith can’t stop himself. It’s the only thing he knows, the sweet painful drag inside him, and he can’t force a different response.

The Admiral has too much maneuverability using his hand like this. He leans close to Keith’s face, closer than he ever could without a floating mechanical hand, His breath brushes Keith’s cheek. “I want to see you come,” Shirogane growls. “Come on my fingers, come crying underneath me. Show your Admiral how much you like it when I fuck you.”

Keith is too cognizant of every tear that drips down his face. He claps both hands over his mouth, holding back a ragged sob as Shirogane’s hand speeds up to an impossible, otherworldly pace. It’s too much, not enough, pain, pleasure—

Devastation like the aftermath of a volcano.

Keith comes hard—harder, maybe, than he ever has in his life. The sound that rips through him is animal, the burst of white light that explodes behind his eyes transcendent. 

Shirogane’s greedy eyes never leave him, and Keith doesn’t have the emotional capability to be embarrassed, even in his come-splattered aftermath. He sobs. The tears in his eyes fall freely, and he can’t stop trying to stifle them. Shirogane’s hand slows to a stop but he leaves his fingers buried deep inside Keith, the continued stretch affirming, but he lets Keith’s leg fall from his chest.

Keith’s whole body aches. He barely registers the brush of a thumb underneath his closed eye, wiping away tears. It’s a tenderness that Keith can’t help but sink into and open himself up to.

All he knows is that he wants this pain. He wants to be owned in this depraved way, to be brought to heel and overwhelmed.

Shirogane’s face swims into view when Keith finally wrenches his eyelids open. His expression is inscrutable, and Keith reaches out blindly to his chest, holding tight to one lapel. It takes him three more gasping breaths before he can speak, but it does nothing to prepare him for what ends up coming out. 

“Thank you, sir,” he says.  _ Thank you. _

The Admiral wastes no time. He flips their position with ease, his hands burning like hot brands on Keith’s skin. Keith straddles his lap on weak, wobbly legs while Shirogane slumps back against the pillows, still nothing of him exposed but his cock and his face. If only Keith’s fingers could handle the buttons, he would pull the flaps of Shirogane’s uniform jacket apart, attempt to make him human in that way, take just that one tiny inch of authority from him.

But instead, Keith can do nothing but cling, and try to catch his breath, and let himself be manhandled into position, one of Shirogane’s hands under his ass the only thing keeping Keith from completely melting into the bed.

Shirogane’s face is enthralled, like he’s hungry for the way Keith cries over him, the little punched out breaths leaving his throat as whimpers. He drags a hand down the center of Keith’s chest, scrapes his nails through the trail of hair leading down from his belly button, gets his hand around Keith’s cock and strokes it like he wants Keith hard. 

It’s too soon, too much, and Keith pleads through a heavy tongue that there’s no way, he can’t, but Shirogane doesn’t listen. He doesn’t have time for what Keith wants.

“You're  _ mine _ tonight,” Shirogane whispers, leaning in to breathe the words right into Keith’s ear. “Mine. And you’ll do whatever I want.”

Keith struggles, his skin burning up. “I can’t,” he whines, “it’s not—it’s too soon, please.”

Shirogane drops Keith down into his lap, the fabric of his uniform pants scratching unpleasantly at Keith’s over sensitive skin. He has two hands now to torture Keith with, and Keith has nothing. The Admiral presses his lips to Keith’s shoulder, too intimate, full of teeth. He growls into the crook of Keith’s neck like an animal and doesn’t stop touching Keith.

Keith’s half hard, or maybe he just never had a chance to go soft, something like that, whatever. 

The desire to ask Shirogane to stop wars within him. It hurts, it really does, but that depraved part of his brain loves it, relishes in the confused pain shooting up his nerves. Keith cries into it, begs, “Please,” over and over until he doesn’t know what he’s even begging for, and then—

Shirogane strikes him. Again. So sharp and sudden Keith almost doesn’t believe it happened. He gapes down at Shirogane’s smug face, his handsome jaw, his mouth quicked like he’s proud of slapping Keith’s cock. Like he knows it makes Keith want to get hard.

“Guh,” is all Keith says.

“You like that?” Again, and this time Keith watches it happen, gets to see in real time the three fingered slap that hits his cock just below the head as Shirogane’s metal hand holds him in place.

Keith doesn’t know that he likes it, but he wants more.

“Talk to me.”

“I—I, sir, I—”

But there aren’t words. Keith’s throat is thick with tears. He stutters out something that could be half a sentence, punctuated by Shirogane pressing biting kisses up the column of Keith’s neck. He toys with Keith’s cock, overly delighted by it, and Keith can’t even think.

“Let me hear you,” Shirogane says, right into Keith’s skin like he wants to brand his words there. “I wanna hear how much of a whore you are, baby, come on.”

He’s hard, he’s so hard, and Keith doesn’t even know what his hands are doing. He’s got one on Shirogane’s shoulder like a grounded wire, and the second is fisting tight in Keith’s own hair. Maybe he wants that to distract him.

Not that it ever could.

“Beg,” Shirogane says. He shakes Keith a little, as if to jolt him into motion.

Keith shakes his head no. He can’t or he won’t; it doesn’t matter because Shirogane isn’t happy with that response. He lets go of Keith’s cock, a blessing in and of itself, but then he’s lifting Keith up again. He pushes the head of his own cock against Keith’s hole, holds him over it, and he stares Keith straight in the eyes as he pushes the head inside.  The stretch of it steals Keith’s breath for a moment, makes his vision black and his heart pound in his ears.

“Fuck,” Keith whispers. It feels like his entire body is shaking, all the way down to his fingers and toes.

“I’m going to let go,” Shirogane says. “And you’re going to stay here where I put you. Got it?”

Keith doesn’t have any fight left in him. “Yes, sir.”

Shirogane lets go. His prosthetic reaches behind Keith, grabs one wrist and then the other, and he holds Keith’s hands against his back. Keith doesn’t have to struggle to know there’s no way out of his hold.

“Beg for it,” Shirogane orders. “I want to hear you  _ screaming  _ for me to fuck you.”

Keith's thighs shake, his breath stutters—he doesn't know if he can hold this position but he can't beg like that either. He doesn’t have the energy or the coherence left. “Please,” he whispers, closing his eyes against the tears. Only the worst man would make him plead for this.

“Not good enough,” Shirogane says. He pulls Keith down by the hips, just a fraction of an inch, but it makes his thighs burn and tears fall fresh from his eyes. He gasps out a tiny whimper. “Now ask me again like you mean it.”

“Sir,” he says,  _ “Please.  _ I just—I fucking need it. Please.”

“Need what?”

A tear falls, and Keith tries so badly to stay sitting upright without betraying his body’s need to just let go and leave it all to his shaking thighs. But instead, his arms are bound, tied so tight, and he’s poised knowing that he’ll regret it if he disappoints Shirogane. He really, really doesn’t want to disappoint Shirogane.

Keith gathers his strength, licks his lips. “Your cock, sir,” he whispers, staring at the bed to the left of Shirogane’s ear. “Please fuck me with your cock.”

“Do you think that’s good enough?”

Keith struggles to find words, but Shirogane’s uncompromising, unimpressed face is difficult to think in front of. “I can—” he starts, and has to lick his lips before he can continue. His mouth is dry from how hard he’s panting, and his voice sounds horrible. “Maybe I can show you. Instead.”

Shirogane tilts his head to the side, considering, and he squeezes Keith’s ass with one hand while he thinks. Keith unconsciously presses back into the touch, welcoming, and prays that Shirogane takes him up on his offer. He can put on a real good show if he puts his mind to it, make Shirogane forget he wanted Keith to beg for him. Keith doesn’t know what else to say. 

Finally, Shirogane says, “Show me how badly you want it.”

And just like that, Shirogane has a hand planted on Keith’s shoulder to push him down, pressing Keith against him until his cock is almost all the way inside. It’s only  _ almost _ because the truth is, Shirogane’s cock is huge. He’s ridiculously sized, completely proportioned and then some, and Keith is—he’s not built for this kind of thing. He cries out, the kind of sound he would never make if his brain were fully conscious and self-conscious, a rough, strangled scream that tears from his throat and offers a counterpoint to the near-painful stretch of Shirogane splitting him in two.

It’s not a cry of pain.

Keith shudders, a motion that begins in his shoulders and spreads to his whole body for a moment. His own cock drools onto the cut lines of Shirogane’s hips just below the hem of his uniform jacket, and his wildest thought is that it’s unfair for Shirogane to be this physically attractive and so well-endowed. It feels like he’s breaking some sort of rule of the universe, with everything he’s got going for him. 

“Hurry up,” Shirogane says. He sounds bored. 

Keith musters, “Sorry, sir,” paired with a grind of his hips. It’s not much, but it sets the mood, works him down Shirogane’s cock another tiny bit of distance. He’s so full, stretched to the limit, and still it’s not enough to satisfy the Admiral.

He’s allowed maybe thirty seconds of half-hearted bouncing—half-hearted not because he doesn’t want it, but because Keith’s body shakes with every hint of effort. His ass hurts in the best kind of way, that stretched, mid-fuck feeling that lets him know he won’t be walking much tomorrow. Keith loves it, loves knowing how stretched open he is and how greedy his hole is. He would take more, if Shirogane told him to. He would do anything.

Keith doesn’t have time to worry about that though. Shirogane looks displeased again, or bored, just staring at Keith, unimpressed.

Shirogane strikes suddenly. He puts Keith on his back, arms still held in place underneath him, but the Admiral doesn’t need two hands to shove Keith’s thighs apart and push back inside. Keith’s body welcomes him in like it’s been waiting, and again Shirogane wastes no time in pushing deep inside. Shirogane groans, eyes closing in pleasure. When he opens them, half-lidded, he almost smiles down at Keith, just inches from his face.

“I can’t believe how open you are,” he says. “You always like this? Ready to take anything?”

“No, sir,” Keith croaks, and all Shirogane does is laugh,

He drives his hips in hard, makes Keith moan, shocked. A thumb traces Keith’s mouth. “Your mouth looked so pretty trying to suck me off, trying to get it all inside, but I bet your hole is prettier.” He sighs, almost regretful that he can’t see it like this, and Keith has to hold his breath to keep himself from crying at how hard the Admiral fucks him. It’s steady, slow, even on the stroke out, and a sharp hard snap on the way back in, like Shirogane wants to make sure every last fraction of his cock gets a chance to tear Keith to pieces and Keith gets to memorize every inch of the feeling. Keith doesn’t think he’s ever been this open in his life, and certainly not this needy.

“I’m gonna come back for this,” Shirogane says. Keith gapes at him. “You just need some practice, bet I could get you to swallow my whole cock. Get you kneeling under my desk, hold your head down—yeah, you like that?”

“You said—you said it was just—just  _ once,”  _ Keith says, desperate, but Shirogane laughs at him.

“Aw, sweetheart, haven’t you figured out you’re special? You think every officer I’ve fucked opened up for me this easy?”

The implication rolls through Keith like thunder over water.

“I bet we can—can find something you want in return,” Shirogane says, the hitch in his voice the only thing that betrays him. “I know you love this, whoring yourself out for the Admiral.”

“I can’t—”

“Don’t you want to serve me?”

Keith tries to twist away, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s caught underneath the Admiral, pinned in place but his gaze and his hand and his cock, and if he’s honest, if he’s truly and completely honest—

There isn’t anywhere else Keith wants to go.

“Just admit it,” Shirogane spits. “You said it yourself, you want this, you want my cock in you splitting you open until you cry.  Don’t you?”

Keith’s answering  _ yes  _ is so small, but it’s all Shirogane needs to hear before he’s shoving himself closer to Keith, finally releasing Keith’s arms so he can claw his way up the bed and bend Keith nearly in half. He fucks Keith at a pace that has them both panting, and it reduces Keith to nothing more than a mess of tears and involuntary noises as he scrabbles at the uniform jacket covering Shirogane’s broad shoulders.

His body hurts and strains to be closer. Shirogane mocks him endlessly for how open he is, for his hard, leaking cock, for the little hurt noises Keith makes when Shirogane pushes his cock all the way inside. Keith presses a hand to his lower belly, so certain it’s deep enough to feel it inside, stretching him open like nothing else ever has or could. 

The way Shirogane fucks him is wild, unrestrained, almost animalistic, and there is no part of Keith that doesn’t love it. Shirogane’s words fall apart slowly and sweat drips down his forehead, his breathing ragged and low. He’s beautiful here.

This could ruin Keith for the rest of his life.

Keith’s orgasm shocks him, sends him spiraling and dizzy as his eyes roll back in his head and his every muscle clenches, clinging to the body above him as horrible gasping noises rip from his throat. It’s almost painful, how good it feels, how much he loves being fucked relentlessly through it all. Shirogane is completely wordless, his mouth on Keith’s throat while Keith screams in his ear.

It’s ecstasy.

He gives himself over completely, comes so hard all over his own stomach, and when it’s done, leaving him with nothing more than rippling shocks of pleasure at Shirogane’s every movement and a mind hazy with more than just the normal post-orgasm stupidity—

Keith lets himself be used, lets Shirogane take his pleasure from Keith’s body. Shirogane drags a hand through the mess on Keith’s belly and forces his dirty fingers into Keith’s mouth. Keith takes it, takes everything, and he thanks the fire that burns deep in his soul for giving him this moment. 

He could stay here forever, oversensitive and needy, but not even Shirogane is endless. He comes inside Keith with a silent scream twisting up his face, clutching Keith so tight to him it hurts.

God, Keith loves it when it hurts.

***

Keith takes a long time coming back to himself.

It’s a pleasant journey back as his mind starts to recognize the world outside of his body again. He finds himself held tight in Shiro’s arms, back to front with Shiro’s knees tucked right up behind Keith’s own. The tip of Shiro’s nose and his soft breaths brush the back of Keith’s neck, intimate and ticklish in a way that’s grounding.

Keith lets himself close his eyes, lets himself sink back into Shiro’s embrace and rejoice in it. He feels good—better, perhaps, than he had expected. The endorphins are still there, dulling pain and leaving his brain fuzzy, and Shiro’s thumb softly stroking the skin just above Keith’s belly button is so sweet in its hypnotic rhythm that Keith can’t help but follow it with his breathing. He imagines his heartbeat marching in time, the drag and pulse of blood through his veins matching Shiro’s tempo, his entire body in sync and aching to chase after Shiro. 

There’s gratitude, then relief, longing, then his hands clench unwittingly into fists so tight his nails scrape at his palms. The sweet burst of pain sings through him, and finally Keith blows out a hard breath as his eyes flutter open. He reaches up with one shaking hand to rub at the corner of his jaw, and when he pulls it away, a glint of gold flashes at him.

Keith presses his lips to his wedding ring as the top explodes off his heart.

He squirms around in Shiro’s hold until he can press his face into Shiro’s now bare chest, luxuriating in the swell of muscle and how well it cradles him as he cries out sweet, beautiful, cleansing tears, catharsis for mind and body as Shiro rubs his back just the way he knows Keith likes. 

It’s always like this when they have a rough scene, always Keith taking a hidden moment to wash the last of it off himself before he’s willing to talk. Shiro is so good to him, kissing his hair, holding him tight but not suffocating. That alone is enough to make Keith’s throat tight with extra emotion, and he tries to welcome it like he does every other. It’s difficult, sometimes, and he’s been known to try and fight it, but today he can’t. He basks instead in the knowledge of Shiro’s devotion.

Finally, he finds his words after pulling back a few inches, enough to wipe the tears from underneath his eyes. Keith skims his hand down Shiro’s side to settle on his hip and tug him closer.

“Didn’t expect you to get the penthouse,” he says, voice hoarse from—well, from everything, really. 

Shiro presses a solid kiss to the crown of his head. Keith’s hair probably smells like sweat, but it doesn’t deter Shiro in the least. “I couldn’t skimp on our anniversary,” he says, voice steady and soothing. “You deserve it, baby.”

Keith hums low in response, a yawn taking him by surprise. “’S nice.”

“Only the best for you.”

_ God, this ridiculous man, _ Keith think, exhausted, affectionate. He kisses the closest bit of skin he can find and curls himself deeper into Shiro’s hold, tangling their legs together and relishing the pull of muscle in his thighs. He’s going to be so, so deliciously sore tomorrow.

“I’m not leaving this bed ever,” Keith announces. “You’ll have to feed me all my meals in it. By hand.”

Shiro laughs, the movement of his shoulders shaking Keith’s whole body. “We have the room for three more nights, but I can’t make any promises after that.”

“We have a bed at home.”

“But not room service.”

That  _ does _ throw a wrench in Keith’s plan to languish in bed with his husband for the rest of their lives, only allowing Shiro up to accept carts of food. But he’s nothing if not adaptable, and he tells Shiro this.

“I know, baby.” Shiro scratches his fingers through the hair at the base of Keith’s neck, his fingernails leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. It tickles, almost, and Keith sinks into it. Shiro kisses the top of Keith's head again and says, "How are you feeling?"

Keith blinks once, slow, and he spreads a proprietary hand across Shiro's sternum, right where he knows the skin underneath his palm is bisected by one faded scar. "I'm good," he says, honest. "Still coming down, I think."

"You did so well," Shiro says, his voice almost cooing. It makes happy warmth flare in Keith's chest, and he rolls his body in closer to Shiro's, as if he could fuse them into one being if he just tries hard enough.

And it was good, he thinks. It's just what he needed, just what Shiro wanted, and there's the lingering shock of realizing just how much he enjoyed the whole thing, the humiliation and the pain, held down in mind and body and begging still for more. It was just what his itching body had been craving for too long, and hopefully just the thing to help lessen the tension Shiro’s shoulders have been holding for so long. That was the point of this vacation, to relax, unwind, engage in some average BDSM. Keith has a few more tricks up his sleeve—or, rather, hidden in his suitcase, and he knows Shiro has the same. 

But for now that can wait.

“You weren’t supposed to kiss me,” Keith says, nosing up the long line of Shiro’s throat. 

_ “You  _ weren’t supposed to wear your wedding ring,” Shiro says, easy as anything, and Keith sighs. He really had meant to take it off, but he usually forgets he’s even wearing it—the ring belongs on his finger, plain and simple, and he has a hard enough time remembering to remove it when he cooks or goes to the beach.

Shiro twines their fingers together, palm to palm, and Keith admires the way they look together. Shiro’s hand is bigger, fingers thicker, but Keith’s hands are calloused from long hours spent training with his blade. 

“We should get cleaned up,” Shiro whispers.

“Mm,” Keith says in vague agreement. He doesn’t want to move yet, and Shiro doesn’t push him. Instead, he lets go of Keith’s hand to rub his back, stroking up and down Keith’s spine and occasionally over his ass. Keith snorts when Shiro finally gives in and grabs it like he’s clearly been wanting, and Keith wriggles closer so he can lock Shiro more securely in his hold.

Shiro sighs through his nose. “You’re so hot when you beg for me,” he tells Keith. His hand creeps inward, fingertips brushing Keith’s hole. 

“Stop trying to butter me up. Just do it,” Keith says. He knows what Shiro is after.

“Bossy.”

Shiro’s middle finger slides back inside Keith, easy and slow. Keith is a little sore, but not so much that he can’t handle Shiro’s final kink. He loves feeling Keith after he’s been opened up, sometimes looking, or even tasting, if Keith isn’t feeling too shy. 

Keith whispers, “You’re so gross.”

“You like it.”

“Heh.” Keith smiles to himself, a small, private thing hidden from Shiro’s eyes, and pushes his face into Shiro’s neck, right where he smells the most like himself. “Maybe I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> whoa boy.
> 
> find me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/disloyalpunk)! happy new year!!


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